Sweaters
by ReyjavikBondivik
Summary: ah


Emil was not having fun. It was hot and crowded and he doubted anything could make this agonizing trip better. His brothers seemed to be having a blast, but in the mid-summer heat of Florida, all Emil wanted to do was lock himself in a freezer. He seemed to be the least tolerant to heat out of the Nordics; despite coming from an island where they learned to harness the heat from volcanoes. No one had thought to explain to him that they would be visiting the southern states. No. Why notify the boy that only has sweaters that they'd be venturing into a climate higher than a goddamn oven? He was tempted to take off the warm lopapeysa; but, he couldn't muster up the courage. Not with so many people around. Someone sat next to him in the sand.

"You gonna take that off?" He glance sideways. Alfred had joined him, resting on his palms as he watched the sea.

"No." Alfred looked at him.

"You're from a colder climate... you'll get heat stroke or somethin'."

"What do you care?"

"Just tryin' to be hospitable. You're in my country, I can't have anyone dying," Emil looked away from him. The others seemed to be enjoying themselves. He wouldn't have minded joining them. Though, he'd probably never admit that. "Why don't you join them?" Emil shook his head.

"I'm not a fan of crowds. Beaches aren't really my thing...I'd much prefer a more secluded hot spring of something."

"Human soup." Emil was tempted to laugh. What a strange thing to say. Though, if you looked at if from that perspective...it's not really far off.

"Mmm. It's nice in the winter, too. Or cliff diving." Alfred gave him a strange look.

"You northern nations...like you're trying to taste death. Matt does the same thing. It's crazy. I almost broke my leg skiing...I don't think I'd do so well jumping into freezing water. It's cold all year round, right? Like, in the 70s and stuff." Emil gave him an alarmed look.

"The record temperature was barely thirty. I don't think any nation could handle that type of heat." Alfred seemed confused. After a moment, he facepalmed.

"Right. Right. Y'all use celsius." Emil wanted to laugh. It was absolutely hilarious watching Alfred struggle with converting, while everybody else understood. Smirking slightly, he nodded.

"Yea,we use the metric system too." Alfred pouted.

"Oh, screw you and your metric system. I use the imperial system."

"Which makes absolutely no sense."

"I like a challenge," Emil hummed. He found America surprisingly easy to talk to. No wonder he and Dan are friends. Alfred glanced at Emil out of the corner of his eyes. "You gonna take that thing off?"

"Nope."

"Should I help you undress than?"

"Touch me and I'll scream." Alfred chuckled.

"Your big brothers will come and rescue you?" If you want to play that game.

"Oh yea. Not having a military has its perks. Like, you know, spending money on more important things like health care and such." This seemed to hit a nerve.

"Alright. Alright. Fair. But, your language makes no sense. Like, what type of word is lapa-"

"It's a lopapeysa. And my language makes perfect sense. Better than taking the same language as dear old big brother England." Alfred puffed out his cheeks. "Y'know what? You and that lapa-pizza is going into the ocean."

"Wha-" Alfred stood up, lifting up Emil bridal style. He clung to the collar of Alfred's shirt. "Put me down!" Alfred ignored him. Emil kept struggling, tugging on his shirt and hitting his chest. It was obvious Alfred had the upper hand when it came to strength. He fearlessly marched into the water. Not too far away, the other Nordics took notice of the pair.

"Are you two a thing now?" Mathias called.

"Shu-" Alfred tossed him into the water. The American was lucky he had grown accustomed to the burn to the salty water. He quickly surfaced. The sweater hung heavily around him, dripping wet. He glared at America, who seemed to find the whole thing funny.

"Oops! Looks like you're gonna have to take if off now." Emil was seething.

"Why do you have such fascination with the idea of me stripping?" He growled.

"Hey, buddy! I'd run if I were you!" Mathias called. Alfred laughed.

"Nah! I'll be fine! I've-" Emil tackled him into the water. Though, as Alfred had said, he was fine. He rose from the water with Iceland hanging from his shoulders. His legs had wrapped tightly around his waist, the Icelander's fingers wound tightly into his sopping wet hair. "Hey dude, you get up onto my shoulders and we can play chicken with your big Bros." How could he be so light hearted? Always smiling and so optimistic. Didn't he want the older nations to take him seriously? He loosened the death grip on the American's hair. His chin rested on Alfred's shoulder.

"Why do they take you so seriously? Even when you act like this?" He mumbled. Alfred turned to look at him. He smiled.

"Dude, no one's gonna take you seriously if you just put up some serious facade. Just be yourself. If they like you, great. If they don't, then they're missing out. Now, are you gonna get on my shoulders or not?" Emil nodded, slipping off of Alfred's back. He kneeled down in the water. Heart beating at an abnormally fast rate, Emil climbed onto his shoulders. He clung desperately to his head as he stood. His brothers watched on in confusion and surprise. There were times when simply tapping him on the shoulder could cause him to panic. Yet he seemed perfectly fine sat upon Alfred's shoulders.

"What are y' waitin' for, Norge?" Norway climbed onto Denmark's shoulders and Sweden and Finland quickly followed.

"Y' ready?" Alfred asked.

"Give me a second," Quickly, he stripped himself of the soggy sweater, tossing in onto the shore. "Charge!"


End file.
